


Kaiseki

by zetsubooty



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Cooking, Discussion of kinks, Explicit Consent, Face-Fucking, Fingering, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Suit Porn, continued clumsy attempts to write demi!Abe, wow geez these two are busy in this fic, written for maximum squishiness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:24:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6289807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubooty/pseuds/zetsubooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of smutty one-shots (very) loosely connected to With the Arc of the Sun. Squishy and sweet abemihs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these were actually written before or concurrent with Arc; they're not exactly se/prequels, but I realised I was unconsciously placing them in the same universe, just different points in the pair's relationship. If there's any discrepancies between them, though, that's why. The majority were written as commissions for a very dear friend.

They’ve had dozens of conversations like it. Lying in bed with Ren tracing random patterns on Takaya’s back, or draped sweaty and happy across his chest, or even sitting at the kitchen table, Takaya leaning across intently, Ren blushing and covering his mouth and avoiding Takaya’s gaze but then leaning close with an excited little smile to tell him the things he likes.

This is a little different, though, Ren with his face smushed into the pillow and his one visible eye sleepily focused on Takaya where he’s lounging on his side and lazily combing fingers through Ren’s messy hair. Takaya hums out a questioning noise, shifting his hand to tug Ren closer so he can kiss his temple.

“The things… What _you_ like. There’s…there’s things, right?”

“I like _you_.” He kisses Ren’s skin more insistently, as though that settles things.

Ren wriggles free of his grip, though, setting his hands on Takaya’s shoulders and pushing him over on his back, frowning down at him. “Taka. I’m serious.”

Takaya frowns back, shifting under him, partially to feel Ren’s weight pushing his shoulders back into the mattress, oddly satisfying. “So’m I.”

Ren sulks at him for a moment longer, then flops down, nudging in under his chin with a little grumble. In consolation, Takaya runs his hands in long, lazy strokes down his back, down under the covers that have fallen back around their hips to cup his ass. Ren huffs in a soft breath, nuzzling him, then lifts his head, bumping his nose against Takaya’s cheek with a grumble.

“Taka is trying to distract me.”

“And _you’re_ trying to be cute to get what you want.”

“I’m not!” Ren jerks back, affronted enough that Takaya can’t help but laugh.

But Takaya _does_ find him cute and Ren _is_ distracted, and the subject gets dropped for the moment. And anyway, he feels like there are plenty enough obvious things he likes, so why Ren’s bothering about it all of a sudden is beyond him.

But he’s apparently bothered enough that when Takaya finally stills on top of him, slouching forward over Ren’s sticky and still-heaving chest with a toothy grin and then kissing him until they’re even _more_ breathless, Ren gasps out, “Will…but will you think about it?”

Now it’s Takaya’s turn to hide his face against Ren’s neck, considering for half a second pretending he doesn’t understand and then strategically falling asleep. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll think about it.” Ren hums a thrilled noise, wiggling under him, then hugs him tight.

* * *

 

Five years seems momentous, seems like they should do something special. They spend several evenings poring over travel brochures, pictures of ryokan and beaches and exotic cityscapes and rolling countrysides. Shoulders touching on the couch or heads together at the kitchen table, watching each other think. Getting into arguments over inconsequential details, Ren sticking to his guns even though Takaya knows it still makes him nervous, then kisses when a compromise is reached. They even, for one brief, insane moment, consider throwing a big party. But eventually, Takaya ends up staring back at Ren where he’s leaning against the arm of the couch, his tentative, “We could…we could just stay in?” hanging in the air between them like permission.

Takaya flops across the couch, groaning as he shoves his head against Ren’s stomach until he wriggles down. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s just… Ren, I just wanna be with _you_.” He hugs him tight, looking up, only to be blinded by Ren’s smile. Takaya hides his own smile with a kiss pressed to the palm that smooths over his cheek, to Ren’s wrist, to the yellow-gold band with its delicate etching work that matches his own.

Takaya’s still intent on making it special, though.

What he _tells_ Ren is that they’ll go out to dinner, that he wants it to be a surprise, he’ll handle the arrangements. Ren seems content enough to entrust him with the direction of an evening, though Takaya knows he snoops to try and figure out where they’re going. He also knows he won’t find anything.

* * *

 

Intent on the contents of the pan, Takaya doesn't hear the door open, but he _does_ hear the loud thump that follows. He pauses long enough to flick down the element, then rushes to poke his head around the corner, cooking chopsticks still in hand. To find Ren on his ass in the middle of their hallway, apparently uninjured.

“You okay? What—”

“Sme… Apr…! Y-you’re _cooking??_ ”

“Yeah.” Takaya tugs somewhat self-consciously at Ren’s well-worn apron, smiling, then swings back around the corner to toss the chopsticks down. And turns back just in time to grapple a very determined (and, he feels, _unfairly_ alarmed looking) Ren. “NOT. ALLOWED. Stay the hell outta the kitchen. Everything’s _fine_.” Not entirely true, and Ren eyes him doubtfully, as though he could read his thoughts. “I have spent an excruciating amount of “quality time” with my mother for this, so just _let_ me—”

He’s cut off by lips, Ren’s breath rushing out sharply against his skin and his hands coming up to clench on the strings of the apron. Their mouths slide wetly, Ren catching his lower lip long enough to send a delightful shiver down Takaya’s spine, his own hands slipping down Ren’s arms to his hips. Ren bears him back against the wall, holding Takaya there with hands pressing into his shoulders and an enthusiasm that already has Takaya’s breath coming faster.

Ren finally draws back, though he still leans heavily into Takaya’s chest. Takaya raises a hand to Ren’s cheek, returning his tender smile with a soft, “Happy anniversary.”

Ren’s smile widens, one arm slipping up around Takaya’s neck. He dips his head to rest on Takaya’s shoulder, snuggling against him. “Happy…happy anniversary.”

Takaya lets his arms climb higher around Ren’s back, squeezing him tight, then pushes him back, turning him, ignoring his cry of protest. “You’re going to make me burn something. Why don’t you go tidy up and get changed? I’ll be done by then.”

“’Kay!” Ren resists his shoving long enough to steal another kiss, then covers his eyes to pass the kitchen. He almost _does_ slip because of it, shooting Takaya an embarrassed look before stumbling around the corner into the bathroom. Takaya shakes his head, chuckling, as he returns to the kitchen. Soon enough, the sizzle of the stove is joined by the rush of running water and the sound of Ren singing a cheery love song to himself (or, Takaya supposes, to him).

By the time he’s set things out on the table and exchanged the apron for the suit jacket he’d left hung on a chair, Ren’s hovering in the doorway of the bedroom, looking very formal in his favourite dove-grey three-piece suit (though the effect is kind of ruined by his damp bird’s nest of hair), fussing with the sunlight-yellow tie. He looks up when Takaya walks closer, pressing his lips together in a shy smile. “It’s…for me?”

“A present,” Takaya says firmly, cupping one cheek to kiss the other, and then slipping his arm down around Ren’s waist. “Although your actual present is something else. The tie just made me think of you.” He stays with his nose against Ren’s cheek a second longer, but the nervousness sparkling through his limbs makes him turn them, tug Ren along towards the table. “C’mon.”

“Ah! One…” Takaya pulls a face when Ren breaks away from him, darting across the living room to…root around behind the couch. Reappearing with a rectangular package and a smile that draws an answering (if faintly exasperated) one from Takaya. “I got one too!”

Takaya waits for him, accepting the package and its attendant envelope and slinging his arm around Ren again, drawing them towards the table. When they get there, though, he finds he’s not quite willing to let Ren go. Ren either, it seems, twitching aside the open front of Takaya’s jacket to encircle his waist, hands and arms warm through light cotton. Takaya hugs him back, keeping careful hold of the heavy package.

Ren rocks on his toes a couple times, and Takaya leans back to give him a quizzical look. Then pulls a pained face when Ren says, “Takaya is the _best_ present.”

He still kisses Ren’s nose. “You say that _every_ year. _And_ on your birthday.”

“Mm-hm!” Ren hovers close but not quite touching. Takaya doesn’t need to see to know he’s smiling, to know the exact curve that goes with his little happy huffs of breath, with his thumbs stroking absently over Takaya’s back, with his soft, “But it’s true.”

Ren tips his head up that last little bit, his upper lip brushing Takaya’s lower, their breath playing gently over each other’s skin. It sparks some peculiar pleasure across Takaya’s shoulders, this haltingness that is not hesitation, that is more like two hands in a darkened room slowly but surely finding each other. His hand comes up to cup Ren’s cheek, feel the pull of the smile that remains there even as their lips meet and then softens, smooths away with the pleasure of kissing. Ren tastes faintly of toothpaste and his hands press solidly into Takaya’s back, and even though he’s been in the apartment since late this morning, Takaya feels like he’s just come home.

They draw back, eyes still closed, hands lingering on chest and hips before finally falling away. Takaya sits, looking up to find Ren glancing between him and the parcel and then down at the envelope leaning against his own glass. Takaya sighs. “Supper can wait a minute more.” Ren nods, snatching up the envelope and eagerly ripping it open, and Takaya sets down the present so he can do the same.

He teases out a cream card with an abstract design in brick red; something beautiful that he won’t find too distracting or embarrassing to have in the office. Feeling eyes on him, he pointedly takes a moment longer to admire it before opening it up. He smiles fondly at the meandering writing, several bits scratched out or cramped in between lines. None of the words are new, really, not at this point, but there are still touches, still fresh angles on Ren’s feelings, ways in which they’ve grown in the past year that bear acknowledgement. Takaya still ends up with that suspicious prickle at the corner of his eyes, reaching out to tug Ren’s hand away from his card and bring it to his lips briefly before holding it to his cheek.

He looks up to find Ren watching him, his eyes a little shiny too. Ren blinks back down at the card, setting it to the side and plucking out the carefully folded and taped-shut piece of paper that is causing Takaya more anxiety than the meal steaming on the table in front of them.

Putting aside his nerves and releasing Ren’s hand, he says, “Well? Open it.” He can’t help delighting in how mystified Ren looks as he unfolds it, perhaps more carefully than the contents merit. But once Ren’s got it flattened out, Takaya can’t look anymore, taking the opportunity to grab the bottle of unpronounceable red wine that has been breathing on the table and pour it into their glasses.

When he risks a peek, Ren’s still reading, face very, _very_ red, eyes huge, biting his lips together into a flat line. Takaya has half a second where nerves and dismay twist around his chest before he also takes in Ren’s blown-wide pupils and the swift rise and fall of his shoulders.

Ren slowly looks up from the paper, hands trembling, spluttering out, “You…wan… A- _all_ of these??”

Takaya huffs out a self-conscious laugh, eyebrows raised as he looks away, his own cheeks quite flushed as well, he’s sure. “Well, not all tonight. We don’t have to do _any_ of it tonight. Or ever. But sometime, if you like. And there _is_ stuff on there we haven’t tried before, too, so those’re mostly theoretical. But I tried to aim for comprehensive rather than necessarily accurate…” Interest is winning out over nerves, and he pinches the edge of the paper, pulling it down so he can look too. “I thought maybe those first ones, tonight; I organised them into groups that seemed to go together…”

Ren nods jerkily, eyes glued to him in a way that leaves Takaya bracing, ready for him to jump him. But instead, Ren just dips his chin shyly, shifting in his seat and reaching out a hand for Takaya’s. Which he’s all too happy to offer, feeling more settled with Ren’s callused fingers in his own.

“Thank you. I know…I know this sort of thing isn’t… _Thank_ you.”

Tilting his head to catch his eyes, Takaya squeezes his hand. “Ah…yeah. So… But is there anything on there you’re not comfortable with doing?”

“Oh!” Ren starts, then looks back down at the paper, skimming. “Some…I’m… Maybe I’m…I’ll be nervous, but… None of it’s… Oh. Um.” He points, avoiding Takaya’s gaze again, and the fact that he’s not even willing to _read_ the entry tells him all he needs to know. “Um. M-maybe if…for Takaya’s birthday, or…? Maybe…”

“Not if you’re not comfortable,” he says firmly, squeezing Ren’s fingers again.

“But a lot of it’s…!” Ren turns his earnest gaze back to Takaya. “A lot of it’s pretty hot… _really_ hot…” He breathes out a short laugh, gaze flicking off to the side for a second before returning to Takaya’s. “I want to do the things—the ones you thought, for tonight. I want to do them!”

“Right.” Takaya gives a decisive nod, pleased that Ren seems happy. Except that when he looks back at him, he’s wearing a worried frown.

“Um.” Ren grips his hand a little tighter. “But…we can do other stuff, too, right? We can kiss, and—”

“Yeah, of course.” Takaya shakes his hand free and musses Ren’s hair, breath rushing out on a fond laugh. “We can do whatever we damn well please. Now,” he picks up the parcel again, “what’s this?”

He says that like its shape, feel, and heft don’t make it perfectly obvious it’s a book. Takaya tears off the striped wrapping paper with efficient disregard, though he sets it off to the side tidily enough. And then stares down at the cover of what looks to be a very beautiful but rather elementary-looking book on astronomy.

His expression must not be as carefully schooled as he hopes, because there’s a slight tremor in Ren’s voice when he pipes up. “Um. I got…f-for me, it’s a…” Ren makes several vague and completely unhelpful gestures. “I…sort…could…ah??”

Takaya sighs out a laugh, then scoots his chair closer to the corner, pulling Ren close so he can plant a kiss in his hair. “Deep breaths, ’kay?” Ren turns his face toward him, nodding, then slides his chair closer, too. Fingers find Takaya’s hand again, and he’s relieved to find they’re actually quite warm. _Just overexcited?_ “Try again. Tell me what you were thinking.”

“It’s… I thought, it’s pretty? And we could…read it…together? And if there’s stuff…stuff I don’t get, then you could explain, and it would be fun…? Or even! If there was stuff you know that’s not in the book? Then you could tell me. Is what…I was thinking… It’s n-not very exciting, and… We don’t…h-have to…”

Staying focused on Ren, Takaya sets the book on a free corner of the table, then strokes a hand over Ren’s cheek, coaxing him up for a light peck. “That sounds like a great idea. Thank you.”

Ren hums out a happy noise, tilting his head to kiss Takaya again, then pulls back, eyes widening. “But…not tonight? I mean, unless you really want to… But I…” he hunches his shoulders a little, eyeing the list, “I kind of want to do…sex stuff…”

Takaya gives him a bland stare it’s probably fortunate he doesn’t see. “Yeah, don’t worry.” He pulls Ren in for another quick kiss, then pats his shoulder. “Now eat the nice supper I made before it gets cold.”

It’s not much more advanced than a simple one-pot meal, but pretty good, even if he says so himself. Not up to what Ren could’ve done, but he knows he won’t think of it that way.

They talk about things that are important and things that are not and somehow forget to move their chairs back even though their knees and feet bump under the table. Watch each other out of the corner of their eyes, then look away shyly as though this were still new. A warm contentedness spreads in Takaya that has nothing to do with the food in his stomach, that has to do with a satiation of another kind, some fullness that Ren brings to his life. And, too, some sweet fire coursing underneath, or perhaps intertwined with it. An awareness of the creased list still at Ren’s elbow, something sparked alight when he sees Ren smile, by some little thing he says or the sound of his laughter, the brush of his fingertips over Takaya’s wrist and slipping under the cuff of his sleeve to trace random circles on his skin. An incoherent need to be closer they hold back for the sake of the meal and propriety and the exquisite torture of anticipation.

Ren clears the dishes, leaving Takaya leaning his elbows on the table, admiring the lean stretch of his body as he reaches for a pot. And then getting to his feet, following unhurriedly to stand behind Ren where he’s rinsing his hands, cuffs undone and sleeves pushed up his forearms, jacket already long-abandoned. When Ren shuts off the tap, Takaya reaches over to snag the tea towel, bringing it under his dripping hands. He leans into Ren as he rubs the rough cloth in small, careful circles over his skin, hiding his smile in Ren’s shoulder.

He kisses the fine wool of Ren’s waistcoat, then the side of his neck, smile broadening. “You wanna read that book tonight?”

“No…” Ren turns his head toward him slightly.

“You sure?” Takaya tilts his head further, kissing Ren’s cheek, hands holding the cloth around his wrists. “Because I’m feeling _very_ enthusiastic about stellar physics…”

“No!” Ren jerks out of his grasp, whirling around to sling his arms around Takaya’s neck. “No reading tonight.” He pulls him down in a kiss, and Takaya is all too willing to pin him back against the counter with his hips, to sag deliciously into Ren’s support.

He still can’t resist teasing him a little more. “No reading at all?”

Ren giggles, then gives him as stern a look as he can manage, tapping his nose. “None!”

“Not even of lists?”

Ren’s other hand smooths down his back, Takaya arching into the contact. And then yelping when Ren pinches his ass. “Don’t _need_ to read that one again.”

He chuckles in response, catching Ren’s lips again by way of apology, his own fingers trailing up to loosen the knot of Ren’s tie. “So then…” He finds Ren’s top button, pushing it through, then the second, the third, ducking down to kiss under his jaw, nudge at him until he tips his head back. Takaya drops his hands to undo the front of the waistcoat, sucking kisses down the side of Ren’s neck, then pushing his hands inside to feel the slight curve of Ren’s waist, the swell of his ribs to his chest. The way he trembles just a little as Takaya grinds against him.

“Then…now? Bedroom.” Ren grabs his ass, making no particular effort to move them.

“Mm. Yeah.” Takaya lingers with Ren’s quickening pulse against his lips, but then forces himself to step back, hands finding Ren’s and drawing him along after him towards the bedroom. Eyes fixed on Ren’s smiling face, trusting in him to stop him from walking into the walls. Takaya’s calves hit the side of the bed, but Ren keeps coming, pushing him over and scrambling up to kneel over him with his eyes bright, even with the hall light behind him. His weight pushes their joined hands down into the mattress in a way that has Takaya curving his hips up just as Ren brings his ass down to press against him. But he shifts his weight forward far too soon for Takaya’s liking, except then there are lips on his own, Ren murmuring out a happy noise against his skin. His fingers flex, then he releases one of Takaya’s hands, pulling at the knot of his tie until he can yank the narrow tail through.

Takaya reaches up, splaying his hand on Ren’s chest, stroking down his side, around to press at the small of his back, urge him down. His legs twitch apart slightly, hindered by Ren’s knees; he’s already aching to have him between his thighs, but just the feel of Ren sinking down on top of him is amazing. Takaya tips his head back, releasing a slow breath as he tugs Ren’s shirt loose from his pants, then shoves his hand down the back of his pants, fingertips grazing the soft cotton of his underwear and then pushing into plush flesh. Ren arches, finally releasing his other hand, which Takaya happily pushes up under the back of his shirt. He just runs his hand over the already lightly sweaty skin for a moment, eyes adjusted enough to the dark that he can see Ren’s face properly, see the desire that has him simultaneously trying to push his ass into Takaya’s hand and rub the hardness in his pants against him.

Grinning, Takaya curls his arm tightly around his waist, one foot finding the floor so he can roll them over. Ren gasps, grabbing at him, then hiccups out a laugh, twining his arms around Takaya’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. Which Takaya breaks after a moment, wrestling his arms free and pushing himself up purposefully. And yet he lingers a moment, just admiring Ren, rumpled and chest already rising with quick breaths, eyes fixed on Takaya’s face but then trailing down his body hungrily. Still smiling a little, Takaya turns, reaching to flick on the bedside lamp, then comes back to sink slowly to his knees, loving the way Ren rises up as if he were on the other end of a thread. His lips part, though he makes no sound yet, just watches Takaya intently as he comes up to slip fingers under the shoulders of the waistcoat and push it off. As soon as he can, Ren brings his hands either side of Takaya’s head, pulling him close and kissing his forehead, his brows, while Takaya works his tie free, his own lost somewhere on the bed or the floor. But he doesn’t slip it free just yet, gripping the ends and pulling Ren down so he can suck on his lower lip, feel his breath huff out, his fingers tangle in Takaya’s hair tight enough to send fire down his spine. Takaya takes the ends of the tie in one hand, twisting the silky material around his knuckles, and reaches down to grope at Ren’s erection, jerking him back down when he arches away with a gasp.

And now, _now_ , Ren breathes out beautiful needy little noises, even with this little, even just with Takaya’s palm pressed against the front of his pants and then feeling around for the tab of the zipper. He bites Ren’s lip, then sucks it back in, humming his own encouragement. It’s difficult to get the fly undone one-handed, but he’s not willing to give up his hold, give up Ren pulling against his grip but just to feel it, no resistance in the way he licks into Takaya’s mouth. His fingers trail down over Takaya’s jaw, his neck, down to work the buttons of his shirt undone until he can slip his hands inside, gliding over Takaya’s skin with aimless affection. It’s good, it’s good, but he’s so much more focused on getting his hand into Ren’s pants, on pulling them out of the way so his erection tents the front of his boxer-briefs. He breaks the kiss so he can look, admire the beautiful angle it forms and the curve of Ren’s body, the way his thighs twitch apart under Takaya’s gaze.

Takaya finally releases the tie so he can hook his fingers on the waistband of Ren’s underwear, watching his face intently as he pulls it away from his skin. Ren’s eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows pulled tight together with his need, hands now just resting on Takaya’s shoulders against his skin. He looks down again to see Ren’s cock come into view, to see it twitch with the non-contact of air and what it promises. A promise Takaya fulfills immediately, dipping in to flick his tongue over velvet-soft skin just to hear Ren cry out, to feel his hands tighten convulsively on his shoulders. Takaya’s lips curve in a smile, even as he teasingly licks just under the head, quick, light, and then nosing down to press a kiss to the side of the shaft.

He looks up then, finding Ren’s eyes. “Remember, _you_ have to be the one to stop us.” Ren blinks at him uncomprehendingly for a breath before nodding hurriedly. “I’ll start, but then _you_ have to lead.”

Another nod, and then Ren bends down, pushing him back to crush their lips together in a brief kiss, tongue flicking between Takaya’s lips in promise of his own. He slips his hands free then, leaning back on one and bringing the other to fit against Takaya’s cheek. “Okay…I…I’ll do my best.”

Takaya huffs out an amused breath, turning his head to kiss Ren’s palm. And then inhaling sharply when the pad of Ren’s thumb drags against his lips. Eyes falling shut, he holds his mouth loose, but makes Ren be the one to push inside, slow, so slow, and Takaya bringing his tongue to curl against it, sudden suction pulling it deeper. Ren gasps, pulling back, scraping against Takaya’s teeth and then pushing in again. Takaya lifts heavy lids to watch him, hold his eyes as he hollows his cheeks, urging him to push deeper even as Ren pulls back out.

But, with a somewhat ridiculous pop, Ren yanks his hand away and instead curls it around the back of Takaya’s neck, not insistence but request, and a sweet, “Please?” on his lips. Takaya grins at him, then gently releases his underwear to push his palms into Ren’s inner thighs. He pushes them further apart just to feel the smooth stretch of Ren’s muscles, stopped by fabric long before they’ve reached their limit, and god, he’d love to sink his teeth into their softness, feel the way Ren would jump and tremble and knot his fingers in Takaya’s hair to urge him to do it again. A low noise vibrating in his throat, he slides a hand up to pull the waistband down again then grip Ren’s dick lightly. And nudges the tail of his shirt out of the way to nip his belly. Ren gasps gratifyingly, fingers twitching on Takaya’s nape and then pulling him closer. Takaya smirks, but obligingly opens his mouth wider to suck a messy red oval there, then turn his head a little to scrape his teeth over the skin.

Fabric pulls out from under his cheek, and he glances up to find Ren watching him steadily, the front of his shirt twisted in his fist and held tight against his chest. Takaya doesn’t waste time, sinking his teeth into the slight squish of Ren’s belly, touch still gentle as he slides his hand up his cock, knuckles brushing his own throat. He releases the barest groan against his skin, sliding his free arm up to curl around Ren’s waist, hold him tight as he smushes his face against him. He lets his lips drag damp against his skin, then parts them again in a messy kiss, and another, and another, and then teeth pinching just over Ren’s hip.

He almost wants to keep going, but the feel of hot flesh against his palm leaves him aching to feel something different against his lips. Takaya draws back, gripping Ren’s dick just under the head and admiring it for a moment, then dipping down to suck a wet kiss at the base. Ren’s fingers tighten randomly on Takaya’s neck, then push up into his hair, his breath rushing out on a needy noise as Takaya kisses again. He opens his mouth on the side of the shaft, dragging spitty up to his fingers and then pulling back, barely leaving Ren time for a breath before he closes his lips just under the head. He’s rewarded with a rough cry that breaks as he licks up, tongue curving against the tip and then slicking down against the underside as he sucks him deeper. He slides his hand down, then back up as he pulls back, all the way off so he can spit in his palm, then opening his mouth again.

He keeps his strokes slow, gives himself plenty of time to trace an eager tongue over the topography he knows and loves so well, pull back to swirl spitty around the head and then suck it back in. It’s obvious how much Ren’s itching to move faster, but he’s still timid, still needs to be worked up a little more before he’ll ask, _demand_ what he wants. And Takaya _knows_ this, has played to it so many times, but now, for the first time, he knows Ren’s in on it, and it’s surprisingly thrilling. His lips quirk up at the corners as he sucks Ren in, free hand smoothing up his side, up to brush the side of his thumb over a nipple. He’s rewarded with a light, shaky inhale, cut off when he just trails his hand back down. One of Takaya’s eyebrows twitches, but he just pets the smooth skin of Ren’s belly, sparing a quick glance to admire the red marks he’s left there.

And then pulling back with Ren’s cock dragging against his tongue, looking up at his soft, “Taka?” And a low, pleased hum drawn out of him when Ren takes his hand, pulling it insistently up. “Taka, I want…I want that…”

He’s all too happy to comply, slipping his hand under his shirt to pinch the erect skin, roll it slightly between his fingers and then release. Pet the skin of his chest and up to trace the arc of Ren’s collarbone, and all the while, the measured sound of Ren’s panting and the wet noise of his dick sliding into Takaya’s mouth. And Ren’s hands, stroking through his hair so tenderly, careful not to impede until, predictably, exquisitely, when Takaya sucks him deep and pinches his nipple hard, Ren cries out, clenching his fingers tight. Takaya’s burning with anticipation, with how good Ren sounds, with the feel of him in his mouth and the tensing of his thigh against Takaya’s forearm.

He stays for a moment with Ren’s dick nearly at the back of his throat, bobbing his head very slightly, his own hips rolling forward in a movement that’s no less full of desire for its containedness. But then he makes himself pull back, wiping some of the spit from his face on the back of his hand before making eye contact. “Ren. I want it now.”

Ren’s eyes widen, and then he’s scrambling upright, putting his dick somewhat alarmingly in Takaya’s face until he shifts back a little, chuckling, hands steadying on Ren’s hips. He yanks Ren’s pants and boxer-briefs down to his thighs, humming appreciation and bending in to kiss his hip.

Except that the next second, Ren drops down in front of him, shoving his forehead against Takaya’s in a dubiously pleasant fashion. Takaya just waits, eyelids low, only bringing his hands up to stroke Ren’s upper arms.

“Um. I’m just…it’s just…shy, and…” He tilts his head to kiss Takaya, sweet and close-mouthed and slightly trembling in a way that is simultaneously endearing and leaves him wanting to roll his eyes.

“We’ve done stuff like this before.”

“Yeah.”

“But not on purpose.”

“Yeah.”

Takaya frowns as an idiotic but likely idea occurs to him. “You afraid you’re gonna mess up?”

In the middle of pulling Takaya’s shirt free of his pants, Ren freezes. Then nods. “K-kind of. But not just…! Also that…because it’s something where it could be a little…it could h…”

Takaya gives him a kiss back, squeezing his arms. “You’ll do fine. We’re just trying stuff out, okay? And it’s nothing outlandish. And as for hurting me,” he tips his head back so Ren can see his cocky grin, “I’m a little insulted you think I can’t take it. But…hm.” He drops a hand to caress Ren’s dick as he thinks. “If it’s too much, I’ll do this, hey?” Takaya makes the sign for _fastball, down the middle_ , though he has to stop moving his other hand and wait a minute before Ren opens his eyes and sees. When he does, he giggles, filling Takaya with relief. His smile gentles as he slowly slides his hand up Ren’s shaft, and he nuzzles close. “I want this. I’m _asking_ you for this, okay?”

Ren nods, then just presses his face against Takaya’s, slipping his own hand down to feel the hardness in Takaya’s pants, perhaps out of desire or out of a need for more reassurance. Takaya tilts his hips into the friction, breathing out a groan that turns into a delicious open-mouthed kiss. He’s still perfectly happy when Ren rises to his feet, though. Takaya comes up on his knees, smoothing his palms up the outside of Ren’s thighs to his hips, tugging once but then just resting his hands there. He raises an eyebrow at Ren, then lets his mouth fall open.

He expects Ren to be tentative at first. Possibly even need more encouragement, judging by his tight almost-smile as he grasps his dick. Takaya’s certain enough that when Ren thrusts into his mouth, barely giving him a chance to get his teeth out of the way, he’s left swallowing a string of curses, instead releasing a fractured groan when Ren pulls back that’s cut off immediately as he fucks into his mouth. He loves it, loves the feel of Ren’s skin against his lips, already getting spitty again, loves his nose crushing against the tail of Ren’s shirt, loves the feel of him hitting the back of his throat, a discomfort too quick, glancing, to bother him. Ren rests a hand on Takaya’s shoulder, his other fingers pushing back through his hair, absent-minded but heavy, grounding and wonderful. Takaya takes a hand off Ren’s hip to curl around his forearm, slide down to press over the hand on his shoulder. He can’t explain, just has to trust that Ren will figure it out.

And he does, leaning into Takaya, his weight slight but perfect. His other hand drops from Takaya’s hair to his shoulder, fingers digging in for a moment, then palms heavy on him. Takaya rewards him with gentle petting up the backs of his thighs, up to trace the curve of his ass, feel the muscles jerk with each sharp thrust.

Takaya’s breath comes heavy and fractured through his nose, and there’s spit on his chin, spit that has a faint bitterness to it now. Ren’s panted cries take on a more desperate tone, one hand creeping back up to twist in Takaya’s hair. He moans encouragement, inhaling sharply when Ren’s fingers tighten. Takaya blinks open teary eyes to look up at him, see Ren with the lamplight kissing the beautiful planes and angles of his face, eyes squeezed tight shut and mouth as well, now, choking back his cries. He can’t help himself now, pulling Ren forward with each thrust, even as much as the warm pleasure building in his chest begs for him to drop a hand to his own cock, follow Ren into that sweet release.

Ren’s fingers tighten in his hair, a tight cry breaking out of him. Abruptly as he’d started, he yanks Takaya away, falling back himself and collapsing on the bed. Takaya follows eagerly, pushing himself up to see Ren’s face, see his muscles working with the delicious agony of holding on that precipice and then falling back. He’s almost tempted just to finish him off anyway, reward him for listening so well, but Takaya forces himself to be patient. He climbs onto the bed, though, leaning over Ren to kiss his lips over and over, wet and hurried and Ren’s arms twining around Takaya’s neck and his hips curving up into the air between them.

Ren tips his head back so that Takaya’s left smooching his chin. “It…was…you’re…okay?”

Takaya snorts out a laugh, then chases him for another kiss, his voice rough when he speaks. “Well, you’re not gonna be able to do much before I come, let me tell you that.”

Ren breathes out a faintly strangled noise, immediately reaching down to feel Takaya’s dick. He twitches into the contact, releasing a slow groan, then pushes himself up, kneeling precariously on the edge of the bed with Ren spread gorgeously under him. Considering for a moment, he grabs the front of his own shirt, flapping it. “Take these off.”

Ren stares up at him a moment before flushing an even brighter red. He wiggles his way up the bed in a way that’s dubiously sexy but certainly endearing, giving Takaya space to walk forward on his knees until just his feet hang off the side of the bed. Ren scrambles up on his knees too; Takaya waits for him, posture loose. Ren takes his left hand in his right, fingers brushing the inside of his wrist as he untwists the brushed steel cufflink. Slipping it loose, he frowns a moment, then tucks it into Takaya’s pocket; he hums a vague approving noise. Ren does the same with his right cufflink, but then brings Takaya’s palm to his cheek, nuzzling it with a sweet smile.

Takaya leans in, smiling as he smooches Ren’s cheek. Then breathing out, “Hurry. Up.”

Ren squeaks, and Takaya has to smother a laugh with tight-pressed lips. Thankfully, Ren’s carefully watching his hands as he fumbles the front of the shirt open all the way. And then it’s not nervousness but desire that has him staring at Takaya’s bared skin, sliding his palms over the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, down to slip fingertips under the waistband of his underwear, showing just over his pants. Eyes flicking up to Takaya’s, though, he quickly grabs his belt, unbuckling it and then undoing his fly. Takaya releases a slow breath that turns into a gasp as Ren shoves a hand inside his pants, wrapping it around his dick. His other hand curls around the back of Takaya’s neck, pulling him close but just releasing heavy, open-mouthed breaths against his cheek as he strokes his dick with restrained impatience. The head of his own dick skids against Takaya’s stomach, leaving a wet smear that has him grabbing Ren’s ass and pulling him close.

“Taka…” He hums a vague response, until it occurs to him Ren’s actually trying to communicate something by tugging on his pants like that. With a reluctant grumble, he releases him, sliding off the bed. Ren follows, swinging his feet off the side, golden eyes finding Takaya’s for a second before he bends almost double to swallow his cock. With a tight noise, Takaya shoves his hand into the back of Ren’s hair, barely noticing him pushing his pants down until they pool on his feet. He kicks out of them as carefully as he can, though Ren does a perfect job of moving with him, keeping his dick shallow in his mouth but so fucking good, so wet, enough to tempt him once more to give up his plan, to push Ren back on the bed and kneel over his face and give him the same treatment he’s just received.

But then Ren’s standing, kissing him as he shimmies out of his own pants and then drawing Takaya back onto the bed. “H-how do you…” he starts, but Takaya just sets firm hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down on the pillows and swinging his leg over his hips.

“This seems good.” Ren answers with a garbled noise as Takaya arches so his dick slides against the cleft of his ass. And he himself is left panting out a string of curses at the feel of it, at Ren’s hand curling around his cock, still wet enough from his mouth to make Takaya want more. “Ah, we need—” He lunges across the bed, fishing around blindly for the lube, humming a pleased noise when Ren comes up to plant sloppy kisses up his side. Takaya drops the lube beside him on the bed, then stops Ren before he flops back down, tugging him into a sitting position. “Or maybe like this.” He makes sure Ren catches his crooked grin before pulling him in for a kiss.

Ren wraps an arm around his waist, feeling around on the bed for the lube with his other hand as their lips slide over each other, wonderful and soft and wet. The snap of the lid opening sets tingling anticipation coiling in his stomach that is released almost too soon with Ren’s hand sliding down the curve of his ass to part him, other fingers following to slick against his hole. Takaya arches again, head falling back, releasing a tight breath to the ceiling and then inhaling sharply at Ren’s teeth on his throat. It’s perfect, the feel of his hand pressed firmly between his cheeks, squeezing lightly with his free fingers as he works one steadily inside, his other arm sliding back up, Takaya’s open shirt riding up on it, to wrap tight around his back. Takaya curls fingers tight in Ren’s hair, other hand stroking absently down from his shoulders. He tucks his chin back down so his jaw nudges against Ren’s cheek, so his panted breaths stir the sweat-damp strands of his hair.

Ren dots kisses along his collarbone, though it’s obvious his attention is on his hands, on keeping his movements at a mind-melting even pace. Takaya feels a second finger come to bear against his hole, not pushing in just yet but a slight pressure that has him tugging Ren’s head back with his name on his lips. He kisses him once, then lingers with their faces close as he rocks his hips back once, urgent. Ren muffles a pleased hum on his jaw, pushing the second finger in steadily until he’s working it into Takaya’s ass beside the first.

And then pulling them out entirely, provoking an offended noise from Takaya. There’s the sound of more lube being squeezed out, then before Takaya can form a more coherent objection, Ren’s knuckles brush over his hip, down, nudging his already tightening balls out of the way to push his fingers back in from underneath. Takaya gasps in a staccato breath as Ren curls his fingers with the thrust, thighs tensing to lift himself higher off Ren’s lap almost as if shying away from the exquisite feel of it. He rocks his hips slightly with Ren, now, the head of his dick occasionally brushing Ren’s stomach as he leans against him, mouth open against Takaya’s chest.

He notices vaguely that Ren’s fumbling around with his free hand, hears the snap of the lube bottle again, and then a slick, hot palm wraps around his dick. “Oh, _fuck_ me…” he mumbles, shoving his face into Ren’s hair, both arms curled tight around his shoulders now, one hand clenched on his shirt.

“I…I will!”

Some small part of him wants to roll his eyes at Ren’s misunderstanding, but most of him is taken up with the fire it sends coursing through him, the fire fed by the hand jerking up on his dick, short sharp movements in counterpoint to the smooth glide of the ones in his ass, driving him mercilessly, perfectly, towards the edge. He doesn’t bother to hold himself back, thrusting into Ren’s fist and panting out harsh breaths that turn into an embarrassingly loud moan when Ren slides a third finger in, not so slow this time but it’s just right, perfect, just like everything about Ren is inexactly perfect for him. And god, it’s so good being stretched open like this, feeling the swell of Ren’s fingers towards the knuckles, feeling the tips slide over his prostate, and Takaya kisses the side of his face furiously, over and over, until his body snaps tight and he grits his teeth against the sound that rises in him. Ren makes noise enough for both of them, hiccupping out light cries as come hits his chest. He slows his strokes beautifully, just holding his fingers still where they’re pushed deep inside, nuzzling Takaya’s sweaty skin.

Ren releases his softening dick, sliding a rather gooey hand around Takaya’s waist under his shirt, which is when it belatedly occurs to him that they’re _definitely_ going to have to do laundry. He can’t find it in himself to care, not while looking down at his own come splattered on Ren’s shirt, almost up to where it still hangs open at the collar. Not looking at Ren’s dick, still mostly hard and his hips hitching forward randomly, not looking at his face, staring back at Takaya with so much love in his eyes that he has no choice but to kiss him. Twice.

Slipping his fingers out, Ren tightens his arm around Takaya as he presses his chest against him, slowly pushing him over. There’s some awkward disentangling of limbs, and then Ren is back on his knees, stretching over to snag a tissue from the bedside table, leaving Takaya blissfully splayed on his back, grateful for the breather. And yet arousal still coils tight in his belly, especially with Ren advancing on him again.

Ren twists abruptly, though, turning back with a pillow in his hands and a smile like he’s expecting a pat on the head for it. Takaya gives him a patient smile that is apparently good enough, then pushes his heels into the bed to lift his hips so Ren can slide the pillow under. He watches Takaya’s face intently as he pats around for the lube, though his eyes fall shut when he curls his fingers around his own dick. Takaya curls up, grabbing the front of Ren’s shirt and pulling him closer so he can unbutton it (trying not to grimace notably at the already cooling tackiness), partly to keep himself from batting Ren’s hands away from his dick and jerking him off himself. He wrestles the last button undone just as Ren shifts forward, one hand braced lightly on Takaya’s chest but all too happy to move it so Takaya can yank his shirt down his arms, tossing it toward the side of the bed.

And then Ren is stroking a hand down the outside of his thigh, fingers sliding under his knee, urging his leg up. Takaya brings both legs to hook over Ren’s shoulders while he shifts closer, bringing the head of his cock to nudge against Takaya’s hole. He’d been a bit unsure about this part, about keeping going, but Takaya is pleasantly surprised to find that he was right, that here in the murky post-orgasmic squashiness, he can bring a different kind of focus to watching Ren get off. And it still feels so fucking good, all of it, the slick length pressing into him, Ren’s weight against his legs, the hungry tension he can feel singing through Ren’s body even though he pushes in glacier-slow. The way he looks, the butter-warm light behind him like an off-center halo but no less perfect for its crookedness, kissing the edges of Ren’s body with a beautiful glow, his hair a tawny, sweaty, ridiculous, perfect mess and his eyes tight rims of gold around a darkness that welcomes, that promises _rest_ and _home_ and _I love you_.

Ren pulls out just a little before pushing deeper still, doing it over and over until finally his hips are pressed flush against Takaya’s ass. Takaya is left with his eyes fallen shut and his own legs pulling taut and a sharp inhale that turns into a low, pleased hum. He reaches up, twining his arms around Ren’s neck, pulling him closer, even though it makes the back of his legs protest. Close enough to kiss, close enough to murmur out his emphatic, “ _Fuck_ me,” against Ren’s sweaty skin.

He doesn’t have to say it twice, though Ren starts barely faster than he’d entered. Smooth, rolling thrusts that seem to bear him down into the bed with each time Ren’s hips squash into his ass. Ren wraps his arm briefly around one of his thighs in a tight hug, then drags his hand down to squeeze Takaya’s ass before planting both hands firmly just beside his shoulders. He’s panting already, cut off by Takaya’s lips or strangling into a small frantic cry, and god, his hips picking up speed at a rate that has Takaya jerking his head back to spit curses at the ceiling. He can feel Ren’s breath on his neck, knows he’s trying to reach his lips, and it’s utterly unacceptable right now.

Takaya shifts his legs, tapping Ren’s shoulder until he slows, then brings his legs down to wrap tight around Ren’s hips, calves pressed against his ass. Ren sobs out a grateful noise, falling forwards in a _mostly_ controlled fashion until their chests are pressed together and his elbows pulled tight against Takaya’s sides, hands wedged under his shoulders and face tucked against the curve of his neck and his hips pounding forward with renewed speed.

There’s something almost serene, here, with his own urgency already cool so that he’s free to lose himself in Ren’s. Open himself, even as he clings tighter around Ren’s shoulders and hips, let himself become unguarded and raw, but soothed, so beautifully soothed by the man between his thighs, by every inch of their skin that slides together, by the love in his voice as he pushes himself up with just those two syllables, “ _Taka_ ,” that stand in for so many, for all the words in the card on the table and every word, every touch, every ball they have passed between them over the years. And Ren’s fingers pushing up into his hair as he pounds Takaya into the mattress, holding him tight as he shifts forward to kiss, kiss, a graceless squash of lips and teeth and breath and then Ren with his mouth open against Takaya’s lips on a shaky cry and his other hand dropping to grab Takaya’s ass, almost his full weight on him as his hips jerk forward in a few last, heavy thrusts. Takaya loves feeling him come like this, loves the feeling of sticky heat he’s left with inside, loves Ren’s movements slowing as he nuzzles against Takaya’s cheek, the occasional sharper hitch as an aftershock rolls through him.

He strokes Ren’s hair until he rouses enough to kiss, a brief touch of lips that is perfectly satisfying. Takaya hums luxuriantly, curling his fingers tight on the soft strands for a moment, then chuckles. “We’re gonna get another complaint from the neighbours.”

Ren buries his face in his shoulder. “Sorry…”

“Well, _I’m_ not.”

Ren twitches, then laughs, pushing himself up to smooch Takaya lightly, and he can’t help but laugh too. Ren pulls out with a groan, then flops to the side, pulling on Takaya’s shoulder until he turns to face him. They’re a gooey tangle of elbows and noses and soft laughter and slowed movements and their hands finding each other, fingers lacing together and Takaya pulling them against his chest that feels like it might burst from happiness.

* * *

 

 **(Omake)**

Eventually, Ren wanders out into the kitchen to put away the rest of the food. Which is when Takaya hears him make the questioning noise he was dreading, the noise that says _this looks really unfortunate and I’m almost afraid to ask_.

Grumbling to no one in particular, he stumbles after Ren, coming to slump against his naked back with his arms curled loosely around him. It feels so blissful, he almost forgets why he dragged himself out of bed.

“Taka…you shouldn’t leave it in—” Ren cuts himself off, then leans back against Takaya’s weight to flick the overhead light on, provoking another grumble.

Feeling a bit sulky, Takaya reaches around him, upending the square cake pan. A few savaged crumbs fall to the countertop, but the (rather concave) cake remains firmly in the pan. “Won’t come out. And _yes_ , I’ve _tried_ going round the edge with a knife.” He drops the pan back on the counter, nuzzling Ren’s shoulder.

Ren’s voice has a tone of suppressed horror. “You…you didn’t use baking paper, but…you prepared the pan, right?”

Takaya lifts his head, craning over Ren’s shoulder to level a suspicious glare at the cake. “Unless “prepared” means “got it out and made sure it was cleanish and then poured the batter in,” then nope.” He can’t see _that_ much of Ren’s face, but he’s pretty sure the look he’s giving the cake could best be described as pitying. “Maybe some other time we could make one together, you can show me what you mean.” Takaya prods the surface curiously. “Hey, why d’you suppose it went like that?”

“Um. Falling, it’s… Sometimes, the leavening? Too much or too little, or if it sits… But…” Ren turns his head slightly, side-eyeing Takaya. “Also…over-mixing. Oh, but if it’s that…!” He pinches one of the fallen crumbs and puts it in his mouth, and then before Takaya can protest any unfairness, holds a bit up for him as well. “See? It tastes fine, still! So we could…I saw…”

Ren stumbles with him over to the fridge, where Takaya finally releases him, leaning back against the opposite counter while Ren digs around. He whirls back soon enough, holding a box of raspberries in one hand and the small carton of heavy cream that had been intended for the icing in the other, smiling his funny little excited smile as he sets them on the counter, pulling the cake pan towards himself.

“This…we could crumble, and…um,” he swoops his hands about in a way that Takaya’s sure _Ren_ thinks is meaningful, “and then…trifle? Sort of? No…no custard…”

Takaya narrows his eyes. “That’s a dessert, right?” He shrugs, pushing off from the counter to encircle Ren’s waist, kissing his temple. “If you think we can salvage it somehow, then just tell me what to do.”

Ren turns sparkling eyes on him, nodding.

Hands are washed, and then Ren instructs Takaya to crumble up the cake, fetching out a bowl and whisk (out of an attempt at belated consideration for the neighbours) before pouring out the cream, adding a little sugar and vanilla. They stand next to each other to work, Ren’s elbow grazing his as he switches hands, eyes almost as much on each other as on their own tasks. Takaya can’t help but admire the wiry, powerful muscles of Ren’s forearms, the way he seems to angle the bowl and the whisk _just right_ so that he can stir the cream vigorously without slopping it everywhere _too_ much. Already done his task, he leans in to plant a kiss on Ren’s cheek. Then dips to lick up a splash of cream on his shoulder.

Ren inhales sharply, leaving Takaya snickering. And then making a thoroughly undignified noise when something is smeared on his cheek, followed by a pleased one when Ren cleans it off with his tongue. Takaya turns his head quickly to kiss him, tongue licking into his mouth and leaving Ren groaning happily. He tastes like cream and sweet and lovely and Takaya keeps kissing him longer than he meant to.

“Mm. No fair. You got more than me, I think.”

Ren sticks his tongue out, but reaches back for a tantalising fingerfull of cream. Which he flicks at Takaya’s chest, voice light as he says, “There you go!”

“You little…!” Takaya kisses him, an unsuccessful diversionary tactic while he tries to reach around Ren for more cream. Ren swats and grabs at his arms until Takaya decides to stop playing fair and drops his hands to run feather-light up Ren’s sides. He gets headbutted in the chest for his trouble, but also gets to enjoy Ren’s hiccupping laughter and also net himself a decent dollop of cream.

Ren’s back upright, watching his hand with a mixture of trepidation and amusement and not dodging out of the way fast enough when Takaya smears it on his collarbone or when he bends to slick his tongue over the uneven, melting line. He’s already reaching for more cream, resting his forehead on Ren’s shoulder as he dots it down to his nipple and then dips down to suck his skin clean.

His hand is stopped the third time by a light hold on his wrist, though. “Taka. If you keep doing that, we’re not…we’re not going to get to dessert.”

Takaya straightens, hiding his smirk against Ren’s cheek. “Okay. Dessert first, then.” He’s pretty sure he can _feel_ Ren flushing. He nudges against him until their lips find each other, but then he pulls back, eyeing the bowl of whipped cream. “Is it ready?”

Ren whirls back, picking up the whisk again. “Almost! Just… Um, you could find some glasses?”

“’Kay.”

Ren explains to him to layer the different ingredients, then turns to rummage in the baking cupboard (Takaya turning away from his task briefly to admire the curve of his ass and the lean stretch of his legs), coming back with a small container of shaved chocolate. He sprinkles them liberally on top, finished off with two particularly succulent-looking raspberries. Spoons are fetched, and then they clink the glasses together with fuzzy laughter and more smooches, eating leaning against the counter and each others’ naked bodies, feeding each other mouthfuls even though it’s the same. When they’re finished, Takaya’s left with Ren slouching against his chest and shoulder with a sleepy, contented hum.

Takaya grazes knuckles over his cheek. “I think perhaps round two will have to wait for morning.” Ren rouses comically, every inch of his body insisting _no, I’m ready NOW._ Takaya laughs, pulling his head back down and patting him consolingly. “I’ll have more energy for it then, anyway.” He inhales deeply, releasing a bone-deep contented sigh. “I made a really good decision, back then.”

Ren lifts his head again, blinking at him. “When…that is…Nishiura?”

Takaya frowns back uncomprehendingly, then rubs a hand between his brows. “No, I was talking about _marrying_ you, you dunce. But that too.” He ruffles Ren’s hair, then pulls him close to kiss his nose. Then feels around for his hand, squeezing it between his own before bringing it to his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Abe “fuck we’re gonna have to do laundry after this” Takaya.
> 
> lbr literally half of Abe’s list is variations on “I like to suck your dick” “I’d like to suck your dick with flavoured lube” “maybe whip cream too, or something like, but let me check if that’s hygienic first” “I’d like to blow you in a car (not while moving)” “ok tbh I’d LIKE blowing you in a car while moving but there is NO WAY IN FUCKING HELL we are doing any such thing” “I’d like to back you up against a balcony railing and suck you off with people passing by underneath” “I’d like to blow you lying on a beach” “under a desk” “idk the kitchen maybe” “I would like it if you rode my face yeehaw” “like literally just any situation where your dick ends up in my mouth in some fashion would be A++ in my books”


	2. Kashinfuu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They haven't been dating for THAT long, all things considered. Mihashi knows this. But it was a long time coming, and now...life with Abe just seems to make sense. And it's hard not to think about taking Next Steps, especially when they're attending their friends' wedding, sharing a room...which, of course, gives Mihashi plenty of time to appreciate Abe's purely physical appeal, too...
> 
> Set perhaps a year or two after Arc.

Ren finds the elegant hotel a little intimidating as they pull up, and he considers grabbing Takaya’s hand until he remembers Takaya’s trying to park and he’s likely to get snapped at. But he supposes the foreign Meiji-era house _does_ look like something out of a fairy tale, just like Yuuto had described (Shouji covering a fondly amused smile behind him). Still, Ren can’t help thinking if _he_ were ever going to get married, it would be somewhere a little…smaller, friendlier.

Ren shoots a glance at Takaya, as if he could read his thoughts. _Not that that’s…! Not that we...  
_

But Takaya is still focused on searching for a parking space, letting the car slow to a crawl and leaning forward on the steering wheel. “We came _early_ , how are there… Who even _knows_ this many people?”

Ren fidgets with the hem of his jacket, then takes a deep breath. _Just because he’s cross about driving doesn’t mean he’s cross at me_ , he tells himself. _Or_ is _it the driving? Is it because…the people?? Or—_ He side-eyes Takaya, wondering if it would be a good idea to ask.

“You thinking something?” Takaya pulls into a spot, puts the car in park, then reaches for his hand.

Ren shakes his head, eyes wide, because suddenly no, he’s not thinking much of anything except that Takaya looks handsome, even in loose jeans and a plain deep blue t-shirt and an old windbreaker, even unshaven and tired from the five-hour drive, and then he’s pulling Ren closer, mouth quirking in an irresistible grin. The kiss is quick, dry, constrained by seat belts still stretched across chests, but it warms Ren through just the same, leaves him springy and smiling as they get out of the car. Takaya slings the two suit bags over his shoulder and Ren scoops up the overnight bag.  _Their_ bag, _their_ things packed together.

He swings their hands wide as they crunch across the gravel and Takaya doesn’t seem to mind, just chuckles and steals another kiss.

The room Shouji’s younger brother shows them to has a funny smell underneath the potpourri, intimidatingly large furniture, and a beautiful high wood-paneled ceiling. And a view out over the side of the house’s formal garden, a few ducks paddling lazily around in a pond with a very pretty arbor nearby just coming into leaf. Takaya lays their suits out on the bed, then comes to stand beside Ren at the window for a moment, humming a thoughtful noise to himself. He inhales slowly, then crosses the room to rummage in the bag, pulling out their (their!) little toiletries bag, then turns to the little ensuite.

“Gonna grab a shower, okay?” He grips Ren’s hand in passing, kissing his cheek. “Try not to make _too_ much of a mess.”

Ren turns to watch him, humming assent. He _kind_ of wants to ask to join Takaya, because it’s been a long drive and it would be refreshing but also it was a _very_ long drive, and his mind had...wandered. But by the time he's made his decision and opened his mouth, the door's closed and the sound of running water filters into the room.

Ren sighs, then goes back to contemplating the garden below and trying not to think about Takaya. Naked. All wet and soapy and touching...parts. Ren shakes his head, fingers tightening on the window sill.

But he supposes he ought to get changed and go say hi to people. He turns to the two suit bags on the bed. He hasn't seen Takaya's, insisted on waiting until they got dressed up together, because while he's seen Takaya dressed in suits for work many times, this is…different. Ren plucks at the opaque vinyl with the store's logo over where the breast of the suit must be, tempted. Then pats at it curiously, feeling a hard lump.

 _No. I decided. I'll wait._ With another shake of his head, he picks up the other bag, then wanders into the middle of the room, starting to shrug an arm out of his jacket. _Oh...this isn't going to..._ Ren blushes, even though no one's there to see him flailing around his trapped hand. His eyes light on the antique wardrobe standing against the wall across from the bed and window.

 _I should hang it up! Like a grown-up! And then Takaya'll come out, and maybe be a_ little _impressed..._ Feeling pleased with himself, Ren bounds across the room and unlatches the door of the wardrobe.

It's immense and musty-smelling, dark wood lovingly polished to a rich shine on the outside. _So big...I could fit inside...I bet_ both _of us could fit inside..._ Ren giggles to himself, hooking the suit hanger on the pole, then shrugs out of his jacket, dumping _that_ on a chair nearby. Then bounces on his toes, once, twice.

Then steps up into the wardrobe, the door swinging lazily as his weight shifts it.

 _We could_ totally _do...stuff in here..._ Ren touches the wire hangers, enjoying their tinkling sound, and giggles again. _I wonder how solid it is_... He shifts to press on the back paneling, but the movement causes the entire wardrobe to rock back against the wall with an alarming bump.

Ren's frozen for a second, terrified enough that he's managed to break it that he doesn't immediately register the significance of the small clack behind him and the sudden darkness.

As soon as he does, panic sets in. He whirls with a jangle of hangers, staring at the door, then slowly raises a shaky hand to push on it. It budges maybe half a centimeter, but no more. Ren bites his lip, swallowing a whimper, and tries again. Harder. No effect. He feels around, in case there's some kind of catch on the inside. Nothing. He pats his pocket for his wallet before remembering that, while he's heard about people unlocking doors with credit cards, he has no idea how that would actually work. And besides, his wallet is tucked into their overnight bag along with Takaya's because Takaya says it's bad for you to sit on them for a long time.

_Takaya!!_

Now that he's thinking about it, the shower's been shut off for a few minutes.

Ren has momentary visions of rescue and falling into Takaya's princely arms, then pulls a sour face. _He'll laugh at me. And probably get cross that I did something so dumb… And I bet he won’t think having sex in here is even a_ little _bit fun!_ Ren scowls at the doors sulkily, then feels in his side pocket, discovering that, thankfully, he _does_ still have his phone. _I’ll wait until Takaya goes down, then I’ll text Tajima, see if he’s here yet…_ Tajima _won’t get cross at me for locking myself in a wardrobe! At least, I don’t think…_

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of the bathroom door opening, the fan louder now. Ren stills, eyes wide in the darkness.

“Ren…? Where…” He can hear the frown in Takaya’s voice…and then realises he can see it through the slight crack in the door.

And a lot more, as well.

Takaya stands with a fluffy-looking hotel towel around his hips, skin still pink from the shower and wet, too, a droplet catching the light from the window as it makes its slow way down from his chest to disappear in his navel. Ren’s lips part on a silent breath, his fingers twitching against the wood of the door, mind caught with a sudden desire to erase the line of wetness over Takaya’s skin with his tongue.

Ren almost calls out to him then, but then catches his lip in his teeth, deciding to stick to his plan. Takaya steps across the room to the bed, clucking a lightly exasperated noise as he tugs at the suit bag. “Did he go…? I thought he was all worked up about these…” Ren flushes, dropping his eyes, but then looks again with renewed interest as Takaya flops down on the edge of the bed.

His legs part, relaxed, the towel hanging between them. Takaya sighs, smiling fondly, and every inch of Ren’s body glows with his blush because that, that smile, it’s for _him_ , it’s Takaya thinking about _him_. Ren beams back, even though Takaya can’t see. He doesn’t care, it feels too good _not_ to smile too.

Takaya stretches his arms up, pulling the muscles of his arms and chest and all down his stomach taut, releasing a long groan that turns into a laugh. He flops back on the bed, shoving his hands into his hair.

The towel is in serious danger of falling off.

The wardrobe suddenly feels very, _very_ warm.

It doesn’t seem to matter how many mornings he wakes up next to Takaya’s naked body, doesn’t seem to matter how many times they fuck, how many times Ren’s stood next to him in a locker room or the bathrooms at their apartments, he still wants to see more of Takaya’s naked body, still burns to touch it whenever he does. Especially with the way Takaya arches against the bed in a groaning stretch, toes spreading then pointing, feet lifted up off the floor and perfectly displaying the firm muscles of his calves, up, the long curve of his quads, up to…

_T-towel…!_

Ren grabs at the front of his shirt, squirmy with arousal. The towel has come untucked, one end still draped almost artistically over Takaya’s hips and partly obscuring his dick. Ren’s eyes hungrily follow the dips and lines of Takaya’s bare hip, the thick dark hairs and the plushness of his inner thighs that he loves to nuzzle, kiss, suck his way up to the shaft of Takaya’s dick and then _—_

Ren covers his face with both hands, trying not to breathe or think or look or anything because now his dick is pressing uncomfortably against the front of his jeans, and maybe he _should_ just get Takaya’s attention, and…

 _Or…I could just…_ Ren presses his lips together to hold back a giggle. One of his hands creeps down from his cheek, knuckles brushing against the door, down to press tense fingertips against his fly, hook his thumb under the waistband. _If I’m gonna stay hidden here anyway, I might as well, really…_

Takaya pushes himself into a sitting position with a noisy breath, and Ren freezes with his fingers already tugging at the button of his jeans. But he’s not discovered, Takaya simply stretches again, hands pushing into the coverlet, chest expanding with his breath, then stands. He swipes up the towel, frowning and patting the damp spot he’s left, then shrugs, the motion a delicious ripple through the muscles of his back and shoulders.

Eyes huge, tuned for any hint of discovery, Ren slowly, slowly unzips his pants, glad of the rumble of the bathroom fan. He bites his lip as his fingers find his dick, eyes fluttering shut for half a second before widening again.

He’s watched Takaya towel off a hundred, a thousand times, and it shouldn’t be so sexy to watch him rub at his hair, chase the last few bits of moisture from his body with a brusqueness that makes Ren smile at the memory of cotton scrubbed roughly on his own skin. It’s different, watching Takaya do these things without him, except it’s…not that different. Takaya moves the same, does the same things, the only difference that his face expresses only his inward focus on his own thoughts. Not like he thought Takaya was _tense_ around him, but it hadn’t occurred to Ren before that Takaya was… _comfortable_ around him, either. Ren smiles, fingers creeping up to press against his lips as he rubs his palm slowly up the shaft of his dick.

Takaya pokes back into the bathroom to drop the towel, then goes to rummage in their bag for underwear, giving Ren plenty of time to admire the dimples at the base of his spine and the backs of his knees, the round curve of his butt as he bends to step into his boxer-briefs. Ren loves Takaya naked best, he thinks, but perhaps second best in his underwear, pulling a heather grey undershirt down over his tousled head that stretches on elbows and shoulders and then clings to Takaya’s broad back in a way that leaves Ren stuffing knuckles in his mouth to stifle a moan. Black dress socks next, unexciting, but Ren supposes necessary, and they _do_ involve more bending over. And then, _then_ Takaya turns to the bag laid out on the bed.

Ren covers his eyes, listening to the sound of the zipper, then peeks between his fingers. He _had_ wanted to watch Takaya put it on, after all. Slowly, he lowers his hand, lips parting against the side of his middle finger, other fist lingering on an upstroke. Takaya pushes back the vinyl, then fusses with the clothes inside for a moment before drawing out the pants. They’re almost black, the silvery sheen of the wool giving depth to the grey and making Ren’s fingers itch with the desire to pet them. He pushes his finger into his mouth, and even as Takaya draws the fine fabric up his legs, all Ren can think of is slipping them down, letting them crinkle in muted shiny folds around Takaya’s feet as he kneels in front of him. His teeth sink into his skin, his eyes sliding shut at the image and pleasure coursing over his skin, down his spine.

He opens his eyes, admiring the way the pants sit, now that they’re settled into place, falling from Takaya’s hips and hugging the muscles of his legs enough to leave Ren weak but not ruin the long, elegant lines, the crisp creases running down from just above Takaya’s knees. Ren’s barely had time to get used to them when Takaya’s reaching into the bag again, extricating a rich claret shirt. Takaya smooths it down on top of the bag long enough to undo the buttons, casting the hanger off to the side and glancing up at the door. He sighs, then swings the shirt up, shrugging into it easily. He settles the shirt on his shoulders, turning and wandering aimlessly a few steps as he finds the bottom buttons.

Ren can’t help thinking, too, of the feel of Takaya’s hands on his skin, pushing clothes up or hauling a leg out of the way, delicate pinch on his nipples or tracing the whorls of his ears and the curve of his smile, hands warming him from the outside-in and inside-out, lighting a fire that burns in him here still, even with Takaya so agonisingly far away. The wardrobe door seems cruel, smooth and cool except where his hot breath has warmed it, cutting him off from his love, from feeling his hands and lips and the full length of Takaya’s body against his, feeling his hips buck and his arms wrap tight around Ren’s back and his lips crushed against his skin or opening lightly on a single syllable

“Ren…”

Ren blinks open eyes he hadn’t registered shutting to see Takaya back near the bed, the collar of his shirt still open. He reaches into the bag, pulling something out of the jacket’s inner pocket. A folded piece of paper. Takaya grabs a waistcoat out of the bag, then turns back into the room, frowning down at the paper. Ren frowns at it too. Paper isn't particularly sexy. He decides to look at Takaya's butt instead.

Takaya pulls on the waistcoat, stretches, turned toward the window so he's outlined in gentle spring light as he tugs the garment into place. Ren's eyes drag down from his shoulders, their broadness emphasized by the waistcoat where it nips in at his waist. His eyes linger on the small silvery buckle, imagining setting his hand _just there_ , feeling the curve of Takaya's back and the heat of his skin through the fabric. Sliding his hand up to feel the arch of his shoulder blades or down to where the wool perfectly hugs the curve of Takaya's butt, pressing down the back seam, down to grab him, pull him close. Hearing Takaya's breath become heavy and

"Hm. Ahh…"

Ren opens his eyes again, finding Takaya rubbing his jaw and examining the now-unfolded piece of paper. Despite his lack of interest at present in paper and words and anything other than working his dick as quietly and vigorously as he can manage, Ren finds his eyes drawn to it when Takaya's arm drops.

Written up the side, in Takaya's familiar crisp kana, is "PROPOSAL (DRAFT 6)".

Ren stares at it. _For…work??_ He looks up at Takaya, who’s now scrubbing his hand back through his hair, stepping over to the window and peering out, then squinting down at the paper again.

Takaya shakes his head, then looks back at the bed, fingers crinkling the edge of the paper. He grumbles out, “Not now,” then walks back to the bed, starting to fold the paper.

Something clicks in Ren’s head.

His mouth drops open, flapping noiselessly a couple times, and then a tight, confused squeak rips out of him.

Takaya snaps upright like someone’s shocked him, eyes on the door.

Ren can’t breathe, can’t move for half a second as Takaya’s head slowly swivels to look towards that wall.

And then definitely, _definitely_ focus on the wardrobe.

Things happen very quickly after that. Ren falls back in the wardrobe with a crash and then starts frantically trying to at least tuck his dick back into his pants. Takaya closes the distance quickly and jiggles the latch, fighting with it for half a breath before flinging the doors of the wardrobe open. Even though he’s got his pants (mostly) done up, Ren drops to the bottom of the wardrobe, curled over with his knees pulled against his chest. His mind is such a wash of happiness, embarrassment, and no small amount of confusion, he feels dizzy.

Dizzy, and incredibly in need of Takaya.

He rolls onto his knees and shoves his face against Takaya’s thighs, gripping the (yes, incredibly soft) pants.

Takaya, who has remained silent for a very, very long time.

The edge of the wardrobe bites into Ren’s knees and he feels off-balance and nervous and he doesn’t want to look up and when he _does_ , Takaya’s looking down at him with that narrow-eyed pinched face like he’s a problem, like Takaya’s rethinking whatever nice words were surely written on the crumpled and folded paper he’s still holding, words Ren probably doesn’t deserve and oh, _oh_ , what if they _weren’t_ for him? And—

Takaya snorts out an inelegant noise. And then starts laughing, warm and rich and loud and it overwhelms Ren, but in the best way, washes him away from the bad thoughts and the worry until he just feels floaty and calm and happy.

Takaya sinks down, still laughing, and drops the paper in favour of clasping Ren’s arms, pulling him forward. He lets himself slip into Takaya’s lap, shifting to wrap his legs around him and then sinks into Takaya’s eager hug.

Takaya makes a curious noise, then slips a hand between them, groping Ren’s crotch. Ren gasps, burying his face against Takaya’s neck.

“What were you even… Were you…” Ren _tries_ not to tense up. “Were you watching me dress?”

 _At least I didn't have to say..._ Feeling relief flood his body, Ren nods vigorously, still hiding. Takaya hasn’t taken his hand away. “An…an accident! Got stuck, and then…”

“And then you decided not to ask me for help. Were you planning to stay in there forever?”

Indignant, Ren lifts his head at _that_. “No! I was…text Tajima, and…or—”

Whatever other plans he might have had are cut off by Takaya’s lips crushing against his own, leaving Ren humming out a needy noise, curling his arms tight around Takaya’s shoulders. Takaya murmurs out an answering noise, rubbing Ren’s dick lazily. And then pushing in through his still-unzipped fly.

“Shit…were you…?”

Ren feels shame reach up a choking hand, shoving his face back down against Takaya’s shoulder. _It was a stupid thing to do, a stupid bad thing, and—_

“You little _perv_.” Before he can do more than cringe, Takaya’s exasperated huff turns into another peal of laughter. His lips press against Ren’s neck just under his ear. “You…you’re incorrigible, you know?” And his hand, oh, his hand, slides over Ren’s aching skin through his boxers, squeezing and caressing him. Takaya nudges at him until he lifts his head, then sucks on his lower lip, his other hand slipping under the hem of Ren’s shirt to play over his hipbone, up to press arched fingers into his stomach as he murmurs, “You _really_ should’ve asked for help.”

Ren just moans in response, grabbing Takaya’s shoulders, except that he’s being pushed back, hands on his hips lifting until he gets the message and clambers to his feet, nearly flopping back into the open doors behind him. Takaya steadies him with a disgruntled noise, pulling Ren out of the way and reaching around him to shove first one, then the other door shut, and finally shove Ren back against them.

His breath is knocked out of him, or maybe it’s just the sight of Takaya coming forward to kneel in front of him, Takaya in his gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and gorgeous eyes and face and _everything_ and, too, Takaya with his own breath rushing out as he yanks the button loose on Ren’s jeans and looking up at him like _he’s_ beautiful, looking up at him with a reflection of all the hunger Ren’s felt watching _him_. No, not a reflection, but a magnification, the adoration in him growing and deepening until he feels saturated with it. A raw noise breaks out of him, and Ren bends awkwardly, pushing Takaya back so he can kiss him again. It’s sort of terrible and uncomfortable and also the _best_ , Takaya’s freshly-shaven skin soft against his lips and his hand coming up to push into Ren’s hair, hold him close.

With a low noise, Takaya tugs on his hair. Ren straightens, cupping Takaya’s face and stroking his thumbs over the planes of his cheeks, smiling warmly.

“Well?”

“Ah?” Ren searches his face, heat running down his spine at Takaya’s quirked eyebrow, his loose grin.

Takaya reaches up, tugging his jeans down lower so he can run his hands over Ren’s thighs. “Keep going.”

Ren inhales, eyes widening, fingers twitching. He lets one hand drag down the side of Takaya’s neck, drops the other to grab the hem of his own shirt. He can feel Takaya’s pulse against his palm, the rush and thrum of his excitement. With another shaky breath, Ren releases his shirt, curling his fist around the base of his dick. Takaya hums an approving noise, hands skimming up to his hips, then back down, slow strokes to match Ren’s own.

“Ah! But!”

“Mm?” Takaya leans in, sucking a kiss to the top of his thigh.

“Mess! If I…I’m…what if…and your…”

Takaya hums thoughtfully. Then bites him. Ren stutters in a breath, hips jerking, burying his hand in Takaya’s hair to hold him close. Takaya tips his head to rub his forehead against Ren’s hip, breathing out, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure there’s no mess,” before planting a wet kiss on thin skin. Ren shivers, and when he tugs Takaya’s hair again, he tilts his head back to look at him, then sinks teeth into his flesh just below his hipbone. Ren’s head drops back against the wardrobe, his own teeth pinching his lower lip against the sound that rises in him. He can’t help fucking into his hand, short, fluid motions that don’t interfere too much with the light kisses Takaya dots over his skin, pausing close, so very close to the base of Ren’s dick, so close that his nails graze Takaya’s cheek as Takaya bites down on delicate skin. Ren makes a guttural noise, fingers tight in Takaya’s hair, curling forwards.

“I’m not…it’s… You…” Ren can’t finish, can only pant, but Takaya seems to understand just the same. He sways back, eyes seeking Ren’s, and then Ren can see down between them, see Takaya’s free hand pressed against the hard length tenting the front of his own pants. He cries out, then, too enraptured to contain himself, and he might sink to his knees except then he’d be without Takaya’s lips catching sticky on the flushed head of his dick, be without his tongue flicking out to tease over the tip then fitting, plush and so deliciously wet, against the underside as he slides his lips down.

Takaya’s lashes droop low over his eyes, his expression the quiet pleasure of a musician drawing something beautiful out of a favourite instrument. Ren doesn’t feel worthy of it, feels only heat and pleasure rolling through him, stealing breath, stealing coherence, stealing all his movement until he is simply trembling against the wood behind him, hand stilled on his dick, the other dragging down to trace fingertips out over the wing of Takaya’s eyebrow, down his cheekbone. Takaya hums an urgent noise around him, reaching up both hands to grab his hips and jam him back against the doors behind him. With another rough cry, Ren comes, Takaya sucking him deep, swallowing around his dick until the erratic shudders of his body still.

With a last gentle suck, Takaya lets his dick slip from between his lips. His eyes flick up to Ren’s, his lips parted and dark. Ren’s hand slips to his shoulder, gripping the silky waistcoat, tugging up demandingly even as he collapses slowly to his knees. Takaya breathes out a laugh that ends with a kiss pressed to his temple.

With soft, insistent little noises, Ren tilts his head up, catching Takaya’s lips, drawing heavy hands up to feel his erection, fumble with his fly. Takaya helps, shoves his pants and underwear down, then strips off the waistcoat, dropping it to the side. Ren shoves his dress shirt up, then the undershirt too, the heel of his palm sliding wonderfully over Takaya’s stomach. He looks down, still so hungry to see Takaya’s bare skin, to watch their fingers tangle around his dick, to look back up and see the hazy adoration in Takaya’s eyes.

Ren murmurs, “Please…” Takaya curls forward over him, nose squashed against Ren’s forehead, then presses a kiss just above one half-lidded eye. His whole body sways forward, falling into the motion of their hands, his other arm braced on the wood just above Ren’s head. Ren’s sure it would be better to just let Takaya do it himself, but he’s unwilling to let go, to give up the feel of Takaya’s callused fingers and hot flesh, to let him be alone in this.

Takaya kisses his temple, down to his cheek, breathing out, “Ren…” and then again and again, thrusting into their hands, voice choked with an emotion that resonates through every atom of Ren’s body.

“Takaya…”

“…love you.” Takaya inhales sharply, nudging at him until he turns to kiss him. Their lips touch with a lightness that belies the urgency singing through every taut muscle of Takaya’s body, breaking apart only to smush together again, lips parted and wet. Takaya wriggles his hand free, cupping Ren’s cheek instead, leaving him to curl his fingers tighter around his dick alone now. Ren hums out an abrupt noise, shoving Takaya’s shirt a little higher, answered with a rumble of sound from Takaya. He breaks the kiss, gasping out a breath against Ren’s lips, nuzzling him, then pressing their lips together once more, his hips rocking in time with Ren’s quick strokes.

Ren’s eyes are closed, and Takaya doesn’t make a sound, but he knows the instant he comes, feels the wave of tension snap through him and then release, shaking and still thrusting slickness into his hand, spattered on his wrist, but slower, slower, until Ren just holds the shaft of his dick lightly. Takaya pulls back until just their foreheads touch, breath heavy and slow, then gasps out a harsh noise, capturing Ren’s lips again. Ren sighs out an answer, pulling him closer with his grip on his shirt.

Takaya resists with a chuckle. “You’re filthy now. Let me…” With another syrupy buzz of noise, he kisses Ren again, then straightens with a groan. Ren reluctantly releases his hold as Takaya rocks back on the balls of his feet and then stands fluidly. “You should…” Takaya holds the dress shirt away from his chest, wrinkling his nose, then sighing. “ _We_ should have a quick wash.” Ren scrambles to his feet, kicking out of his pants and reaching back to pull off his t-shirt, somehow avoiding smearing the mess on the front anywhere. He resurfaces in plenty of time to enjoy Takaya undoing the last few buttons of his shirt. Takaya looks up at him with a smirk. “I’d _better_ come with you, make sure you don’t get your ass stuck again.”

Ren scrunches up his mouth in an indignant frown, then sticks his tongue out at Takaya, who just snorts out a laugh and pulls him in for a nuzzle and then a quick kiss. Takaya takes his hand, drawing him along to the bathroom.

They spend as much time just standing under the spray as actually cleaning, arms curled around each other and heads resting on shoulders in a companionable silence. The towels are just as fluffy as they’d looked, even with Takaya scrubbing one over his skin, he’s _sure_ tickling on purpose, until Ren’s giggling and snatching it away to rub roughly at Takaya’s face and hair until he breaks down and laughs too. Ren pulls the towel down around the back of Takaya’s neck, tugging him into a kiss, bubbly and bright.

Ren’s all but forgotten about the mysterious paper as he stands fidgeting while Takaya drapes a white tie around Ren's neck, twitching the light teal collar back into place over it. Takaya frowns slightly as he lines up the seams, then deftly twists the wide end under, tying the knot quickly. He always seems to get it just the right length on the first try, not like Ren. But Takaya still lets Ren do _his_ , and Ren thinks _his_ knots are nicer, anyway, even if they take longer. _Or maybe it’s just because it’s on Takaya…_ Ren presses his lips in a little dip of a smile, looking between Takaya’s face and his hands, now sliding the tie tight around Ren’s neck, straightening out the knot.

Except his smile falters because Takaya’s still frowning, and Ren has spent too much time looking at his face not to know the difference now between _I’m focusing_ and _I’m concerned._

Ren fusses with the open front of Takaya’s jacket, his mouth opening and closing a couple times before he finally musters, “Taka?” He can feel the slight weight in Takaya’s breast pocket, and lifts the heavier fabric curiously.

Takaya’s eyes flick up to meet his, then back down to give his tie one last tug. He doesn’t lower his hands, though, pulls lightly on Ren’s collar, then slips one hand under the ends of the tie, the other coming up to touch oddly hesitant fingertips to his jaw. “The paper…you saw it?”

Ren nods, watching Takaya’s carefully neutral expression with a solemn one of his own. For once, it's Takaya avoiding his eyes. “I did. J-just the title. I didn’t mean to...!”

“I know. I shouldn’t have had it— I got…carried away, with all this.” Takaya’s fingers leave his skin, arc in a wave that encompasses the house and everything about to occur in it, or rather, out in its back garden. And then Takaya meets his eyes, and that mask is still there but thin, a shy barrier that asks to be pushed through, not one meant to keep him out. And there’s warmth underneath, a warmth that leaves Ren breathless and waiting, rapt. Takaya takes a breath. “Will you let me say the rest in my own time?”

Ren stares back at him, tiny twin tendrils of nervousness and disappointment tangling around his heart. He shuts his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly and releasing the feelings to drift away. He blinks his eyes open, then crinkles them shut, breaking into a smile. “Yeah! Of course!”

When he opens his eyes, Takaya’s giving him one of those funny startled looks. Before he can do more than blink at him, though, Takaya huffs out an amused noise, pulling on Ren’s tie. He kisses his forehead, then, almost delicately, his lips, as if Ren might break or disappear. And truly, he feels as though he _might_ break open with the happiness welling inside him.

“Okay.” Takaya rubs their noses together, and Ren can practically feel his grin. “Okay.” Takaya breathes out a laugh. “Good. And… But in the meantime, you could…always think about how you might answer.” He keeps Ren close, lips brushing in another kiss.

“I will. But…” Ren slides his hands around Takaya’s waist, in underneath the suit jacket, cozy and silky and lovely. One of Takaya’s pockets crinkles whenever he moves his arm, and Ren smiles to himself. “I think…I think I already know how I’ll answer. Oh, but!” he leans back, getting a brief look at Takaya, whose eyes look oddly shiny, “m-maybe I ca—”

With a low grumble of noise, Takaya covers his lips with his own, hands slipping down to wrap around his back, tight, almost too tight, but Ren loves the feeling, never wants to be let go.

Except he _does_ bring one of his hands to yank insistently on Takaya’s lapel, breaking the kiss with a gasp. “I was…! I was _talking_ …” He fixes Takaya with something resembling a stern look. “I just wanted… Maybe I’ll want to…say…ask stuff too!”

He can’t keep the stern expression or the distance any longer, because there’s obvious wetness at the corners of Takaya’s eyes and a tender smile curving his lips and kissing is always so much easier for him than talking, anyway.

But Ren feels like even if his words aren’t as elegant, aren’t as clearly-spoken, Takaya will be glad to hear them.

* * *

**Omake-ish**

Takaya squeezes Ren's hand a little tighter as they step out into the lobby. People still linger chatting, but Takaya steers them quickly to the doors out to the garden terrace.

Azusa’s the first to spot them, waving them down with a grin. Takaya's happy to slip into the seat next to him, Ren leaning around him to say a shy hello. They greet old teammates, but all Takaya can think of is how gorgeous Ren is, how his cheeks glow, how the pale spring sunlight warms in his hair.

Kousuke leans on the back of Ren’s chair, plucking at a stray thread on his shoulder. “Hey, I thought someone said you guys got in super early. Where you been?”

Takaya tries to keep his face straight, cringing internally as Ren turns. But with a completely innocent expression, Ren blurts out, “C-c… I got…I was! Car sick!”

Kousuke stares back at him. His eyelids droop in a slow blink. “Huh. Rough. Glad you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah!”

Ren wriggles back around in his seat, his eyes catching briefly on Takaya's in a decidedly  _impish_ smile. He can’t help smiling back, threading his fingers through Ren’s and tugging his hand to rest on his thigh. The warmth that’s lingered in his chest for hours now seems only to expand. He’s happy to know that, even after all these years, Ren can still surprise him.

Takaya squeezes his hand lightly. _Keep on doing that. Keep surprising me for a long, long time.  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls always remember that asking is sexy and creepin on yo datefriends is kinda uncool ✌️✌️✌️


End file.
